


How we got married

by blibl



Series: THE ANDERSON HOLMES SERIE [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Weddings, mention of past child abuse, not crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 14:07:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blibl/pseuds/blibl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anderson is Mummy Holmes (and Mycroft's husband)...</p>
            </blockquote>





	How we got married

**THE ANDERSON HOLMES SERIE**

 II

**« How we got married »**

Sherlock had been right – of course he had been, duh. And Anderson had finally had the courage to confront Mycroft one fine evening of June 2004 and well – jump him in the middle of the living-room.

It didn’t happen exactly like that, but this was the story Sherlock was spreading out with a crazy smile in the front hall of the Westminster city council.

Anderson was almost glad Mycroft was running a little late because he wasn’t sure his futur husband wouldn’t get an ulcer watching Sherlock speak with the most influential politicians of the world – and Mycroft certainly had arranged the date of the ceremony so that the Queen couldn’t attend.

“Am I the only one feeling like the black duck in the farm?” A rough voice asked at Anderson’s left.

Anderson smiled a little and poked his elder brother’s side. “No it’s not. We’re representing the poor side of Great Britain.”

“A shame we don’t wear rags, then.”

“Clay, behave,” came a second voice just behind them.

“Sebastian, you’re almost as late as the groom himself,” said a cheerful third voice. Sebastian frowned, looking down (very down) at his little brother. “Your fiancé got second thoughts?”He asked.

Anderson rolled his eyes and shook his head. “No, Bush just wanted a meeting this morning and Mycroft couldn’t say no to him.”

Clay’s face darkened. “Even for you.”

Anderson breathed deeply and faced his three huge older brothers – they were all rugbymen players since primary school – kindergarten? Anderson had himself preferred to play in the mud with his model dinosaurs. He was four years younger than Clay, who was 34. Sebastian and Eliot were 36 and 37 years old – there were still pretty much stuck at 15 in their heads though.

“Not even for me Clay, and I respect that and it’s all ok and…For Christ’s sake Sherlock!” He whispered violently, walking quickly toward the young man.

Sherlock was attempting to burn one of the flower displayed here and there in the Hall.

“What do you think you are doing, Sherlock?!” He exclaimed, taking hold of Sherlock’s forearm and stealing the lighter from him.

Sherlock pouted and glared at him. “I am bored.” Anderson rolled his eyes and scanned the assembly. “Ok, what can you tell me about that charming plump pink Lady there?” He said, discreetly pointing out to a rather old fat ugly woman.

Sherlock used three seconds to look at her before deducing the most terrifying things about her – and god, he would never allow Mycroft to do any guest list again.

A ‘bip’ broke Sherlock in the middle of his deduction and he fished Anderson’s phone out of his pocket.

“Mycroft will be here in 5.” He read, and they observed as a very well dressed Anthea announced to the assembly that they were welcome to go find their sits.

“You’ll be married in less than one hour Mummy.” Sherlock said softly, giving him his phone back. Anderson smiled brightly and squeezed Sherlock’s arm.

“Yes, I will.”

“You’ll be officially a part of our family,” the young man continued, and he looked a little paler than five minutes ago.

Anderson frowned and forced him to meet his eyes. “Nothing could make me happier, Sherlock. You know that,” he said.

Sherlock nodded with reluctance before shrugging. “But you don’t really know our whole family.”

“But we’ve got enough of a Holmes family on our own; we don’t need anyone else, Sherlock.” he whispered.

And Mycroft appeared just behind them – and how could he always do that, Anderson would never know– patting Sherlock back gently and smiling with reassurance at him.

“Family is where the heart is.” Anderson concluded.

Mycroft kissed him quickly and led his brother to the room. Anderson followed them with a smile and stopped to give a kiss to his parents and hug to his delighted brothers.

“You’re marrying the ‘poshest’ kid of the school Andy, well done.” Sebastian said with a large smile. Anderson rolled his eyes and said.

“I am not marrying him for his money, Seb’. You can’t imagine how good he is at sex,” he said, and his brother’s face fell. He snickered and joined Mycroft quickly on the little platform.

The lord-Mayor, who was celebrating the ceremony, shook hands with Mycroft and welcomed the assembly.

Then, Anderson stopped listening and just stayed dumbfounded by the fact that he was finally marrying Mycroft.

A strong cough took him out of his reverie and he turned his head a little to see Sherlock smiling at Clay, who had apparently been the one to cough.

“Mister Mayden, I am about to ask you the question,” Said the Mayor’s voice and Clay and Sherlock rolled their eyes at the same time and held back their laugh when Anderson blushed furiously.

“Sorry,” he muttered, throwing a glance at Mycroft’s impassive face. But Anderson knew him enough to know that he was internally roaring in laughter like a hyena.

“So, if no one in the assembly has a valid reason to oppose this union, we may…” But the Lord-Mayor was far too confident. He was interrupted by the burst of the doors and Anderson groaned.

“Come on, it only happens in fucking movies,” he swore, and was half expecting Mycroft to reprimand him but his futur husband wasn’t saying a word – neither was anyone else.

And then Sherlock whimpered and Anderson promptly turned around. And oh, there was no mistaking the identity of the trouble makers.

Broderick and Vienna Holmes stood there in all their arrogant majesty.

“We can’t allow this nonsense to happen, Alfred,” Broderick Holmes said, his voice deep as he talked directly to the Mayor. Said man narrowed his eyes before sighing heavily.

“Mycroft, you have to cease this scandalous behavior. I am very disappointed in you. I thought that after Sherlock no one could ever do me so much pain but – Mycroft why are you doing this to your poor mother?” Vienna Holmes said in a faked desperate voice.

But Mycroft was stoic, silent. And Anderson saw his brothers slipping between chairs to come seat beside a nearly catatonic Sherlock. Anderson clenched his teeth and only half listened when Mycroft’s father commanded his son to cancel the ceremony and come back home.

And then, to Anderson’s utter amazement– and certainly to the amazement of the whole Assembly of Mycroft’s supporters (and they were, even the frighteningly powerful pink lady) – Vienna Holmes called out a name and a graceful blonde little cunt – woman – came in.

“That’s Annia Mycroft, she is perfect for you and…”

“…Annnnnd I think this is quite enough now.” Anderson interrupted her – because Mycroft was apparently in the same state of shock as Sherlock.

He approached the old couple and crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows.

“How dare you interrupt my wife in…”

“And you, shut up as well,” Anderson said. And he smiled when the man began to literally glow red.

“You have no idea what I could do to you, to your family and your children and grand-children, you little…” Broderick Holmes hissed. But a loud sound cut him off and Alfred, the Lord-Mayor came to stand beside Anderson.

“Are you actually threatening him Broderick?” The man asked in a voice full of fake wonder.

“Alfred, you of all people should understand what a shame it is for families like ours to have married queers for heir,” Mycroft’s father hissed.

“Know, Broderick, that I am very proud to have a married queer for heir, who with Mycroft fought for the right to enter a recognized partnership.”

“Well, I will never allow sodomite in my household…” Anderson’s eyes went wide and he shook his head- How Sherlock and Mycroft had managed to become such amazing men with these horrible people was a mystery?

“Ok, that’s it. Out with you. Brothers.” Anderson exclaimed, and at once, Anderson’s giant three brothers where beside him.

“Now, go away or they’ll make you. And don’t ever come near Mycroft or Sherlock uninvited again.”

Broderick Holmes glared at Anderson and Vienna adopted the most pathetic sad face he had ever seen – and yes, she had certainly worked on Sherlock and Mycroft with sick emotional blackmail.

She raised her head and Anderson could see she was going to try and speak to Sherlock of all people.

A burst of rage almost shook Anderson and he took a step forward.

“Don’t you dare,” he said.

And he may not have been as big and frightening as his brothers but he had back up and dark eyes and he was filled with evident rage.

A long silence stretched out in the room before finally, Broderick and Vienna Holmes turned their back to them and walked out, head raised, arrogant against all.

“No but seriously?” Clay exclaimed, clapping Anderson hard on the back.

Anderson glared at him and joined Sherlock and Mycroft quickly. Mycroft had sat himself beside Sherlock and was talking softly to him but the young man wasn’t reacting.

“Sir, could we use your office for five minutes?” Anderson asked the Mayor. After the man had nodded, Anderson turned toward the guests and smiled apologetically.

“I am so very sorry for this terrible interruption. The ceremony will go on in five minutes, let me just patch up my best man,” he said softly.

Some people clapped their hands, some others smiled at him and Anderson quickly helped Sherlock to stand up and they followed Alfred to his office.

“Take your time," the man said looking sadly at Sherlock.

He closed the door and Anderson sat Sherlock and Mycroft on the chesterfield sofa.

“Now, look at me, you two,” he said. “It’s over, they’re gone, ok? Sherlock, they’re gone.”

“Anderson, if you want to cancel the ceremony, I’ll understand. We can – “ but Anderson held his hand up interrupting Mycroft as Sherlock began to hyperventilate.

“Alright stop it. I am not going anywhere. I am marrying you Mycroft. Sherlock, look at me.”

He took Sherlock’s face into both of his hands and forced him to look at him.

“I am not going anywhere, I love your brother, I love you, and I am not going anywhere, alright? I don’t fear you parents, and I trust Mycroft to have more influence than his retired father could ever have. I don’t fear them, alright? And if I have to be your knight in shining armor for it, I’ll be just that. You get to be better than me in everything, I get to stand and send to hell your fucking parents. I don’t fear them, and I’ll protect you, both of you, against them. You trust me?” Anderson asked, and he directed his gaze on Mycroft.

The man nodded, tense, and finally Sherlock breathed, let out one sob, and fell into Anderson's arms.

“I am not Mummy for nothing Sherlock. You don’t owe anything to this people. Family is where the heart is.” Anderson whispered into Sherlock’s hair, one of his hands searching for Mycroft’s one.

“Everything is fine.”

 

So they got married. And Anderson was the happiest husband in the whole world even if Sherlock got himself drunk with his brothers and vomited in a flowerpot because apparently, even if the man had tasted every drug available, he hadn’t ever really drank more than a glass of wine.

Anderson should really have thought about it better before entrusting him into his brothers’ hands.

“Jeremiah, please, if Sherlock says something nasty to you, regarding aspect of your life you don’t want anyone to know and so on, please, don’t hit him. He’s like that, he can’t really stop doing it. Just tell him that he got it right and ruffle his hair or whatever but don’t hit him, and don’t let Clay and Sebastian hit him either.” Jeremiah looked at his brother’s face very intently before smiling brightly and laughing.

“It’s a little bit too late for that, ya know bro.” The man – drunk, of course – it was 5 in the morning – said and Anderson looked for Sherlock, alarmed.

“We didn’t hit him bro, r’lax. We challenged him. He is currently deducing aunt Madge’s infidelities from top to bottom. Oh and he is also very drunk. Like me, in fact,” he said, and he turned around quickly and wandered off.

Anderson looked at his back for a while before sighing heavily.

“Have you found him then?” Mycroft asked in his ear. Anderson’s heart lipped out and he turned around, frowning.

“Seriously, couldn’t you at least ring a bell before apparating?”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and raised one eyebrow. “Apparating?” He repeated. Anderson let out a laugh and kissed his husband. “I should have known you wouldn’t know Harry Potter.”

“I know of Harry Potter, Anderson, I just haven’t read the books. So where is my little brother?”

“My brothers are apparently drinking him under the table and asking him all the dirty secrets of every member of our family," he sighed and Anderson would have loved to take his man to bed.

But – well – they had to take care of their child, right?

“I am going to find him and then we go home,” he whispered and kissed Mycroft again before following the path his big brother had taken earlier.

He found Sherlock and his brother in the children’s part of the large dining-room, not under the table but kneeling on it, with two little girls, and armed with a long stick – from the flowerpots, no doubt – fighting Clay in duel.

“You won’t live long enough to see the earth again, Pirate!” Clay exclaimed, and Sherlock avoided in extremis to be slapped in the face.

He however lost his balance and fell off the table, right on Anderson.

He caught him – of course – for all of one second before collapsing under the long body.

“Right, I think we can call it a night. Clay, help the girls to get down. Sherlock, we’re going.”

But as his brother took their little cousins in his arms, Sherlock for his part, stayed still. Anderson raised one eyebrow, turned his head and looked up to see Sherlock’s eyes closed. Soft snores began escaping his wine-reddened lips.

“Oh, that’s just great,” he muttered.

“Do you need some help, Mister Holmes?” An amused voice asked above them. His arms tightened around Sherlock and he breathed heavily and laughed a little.

“Yes please Mister Holmes, your brother is suffocating me.”

“Well, it wouldn’t do for you to die of suffocation on your wedding night,” Mycroft said, kneeling down and rolling Sherlock into his arms.

He then straightened and stood up, smiling softly as Sherlock’s head rested on his shoulder. “I am sure Sherlock would be delighted to get a corpse to play with.”

Mycroft’s lips thinned and he bent down a little. “Not yours, my dear,” he said, and brushed his lips against Anderson’s ones.

The man smiled and nodded. “I know.”

* * *

 

They didn’t have a honey moon – Firstly because Mycroft couldn’t really take any holidays at the moment. Secondly because they would have had to take Sherlock with them and Sherlock was only really happy in London.

The boy – 22 now, but still, he was a boy to Anderson - would only be an annoying brat and if the goal was to have sex like rabbits, they could easily do it at home, Sherlock having his own little Dupleix above their flat.

So instead of taking some time off to just bath in the pool of pink bubbles his brain had become - and Sherlock’s words had just been slightly more insulting – he took the young man with him to his first day back to work.

he man they met at the yard eyed them warily and took them with reluctance in his office.

“So, you are Anderson Mayden, that’s right?”

“Holmes, now,” Anderson corrected.

The silver haired man just nodded vaguely and extended his hand.

“Detective inspector Lestrade. We’ve been wondering about you for some time M. Holmes, are you finally going to take your job?” He asked, his voice a little rough.

“Yes, I am,” Anderson answered simply. Lestrade’s eyes turned toward Sherlock and he looked him from head to toes, before raising an interrogating eyebrow.

“And who are you?” He asked Sherlock directly.

“I am a consulting detective and I would like to work with you,” Sherlock said in a deep voice filled with confidence.

The man barked a laugh and shook his head. “And you think we need the help of a consulting detective, Mister…?”

“Holmes.” Realisation crossed Lestrade’s face and he nodded.“Oh I see.”

“No you don’t. But I can show you. The case you’re working on – the coffee murderer – I can solve it in five minutes,” Sherlock said.

Lestrade looked at Anderson who just nodded solemnly. “Can you really?”

“Yes. Show me the report and pictures,” he said – even if, in fact, he had already gotten hold of the files in the morning. And then, Sherlock just did his magic trick and Anderson thought for a minute that Lestrade was actually going to hug him.

He didn’t.

He just shook Sherlock’s hands and took his phone number, promising that he would call whenever he had a tricky case.

And for the remaining time, Anderson – with Mycroft’s influence – got Sherlock’s into a research team at bart’s – a research team made up of only one person.

Basically, Sherlock had access to a private lab and almost everything he needed for his experiments.

And life, for them, was good.

* * *

 

At the end of the year 2005, almost ten months after Mycroft and Anderson’s wedding, Isenham and Igham came to life.

A carefully chosen surrogate had already been found before the wedding and not a month later, she had gotten impregnated with Anderson’s semen.

Anderson would have loved to have children who would look like Mycroft (or Sherlock) but the both of them had been against the idea, the fear of the children being ‘wrong’ in some way overwhelming them. Anderson hadn’t fought but he swore to himself that if they were ever going to have another child, then Mycroft would be the one to father them.

The boys were the cutest babies Anderson had ever seen and seeing them in Mycroft or Sherlock’s arms was the cutest thing Anderson had ever witnessed as well.

Mycroft was acting all serious and confident when he had one of the twins in his arms, but as soon as he would put them down, it was like the air had left his lungs.

Anderson understood later on that Mycroft was actually terrified to let them fall.

Sherlock was another story entirely. He refused to hold them at all, not while standing at least. He would just lay down on the floor with them and held staring contest with one or both of them for hours.

Anderson wouldn’t have believed it if anyone else had told him that but Sherlock was actually fascinated with babies – or was it because they were his nephews?

And to anyone utter amazement (anyone being Anderson’s brothers and parents and Anthea), Anderson and Mycroft, when working, trusted Sherlock completely to take care of their sons – after the young man had finally accepted to take his nephews in his arms, of course.

And life kept being the dream Anderson had always wanted his life to be.

 

 

Two years later, Sherlock decided it was time for him to move out.

“You know, eating is actually what makes you fat,” Sherlock said in a rather nasty voice to his brother as Anderson came into the room.

“Sherlock, please.” He kissed Ingham on the forehead, avoiding with ease a rather vengeful children fork.

He did the same to his second son who tucked his arms around his father’s neck and held him down with all his little force. Isenham gave him a loud kiss before going back to eat quietly.

“What? I am only telling you the truth. Well, you’re a politician so it wouldn’t surprise me if you ended being an obese bald man in your fifties but you should be more careful, really. I am not sure Mummy would still appreciate being fucked by a giant seal.”

“Sherlock!” hissed Anderson angrily. “Stop being a freak and apologize. What’s gotten into you?” He asked, frowning. He stood beside Mycroft who sat at the kitchen table in front of Sherlock and kissed his temple.

Sherlock crossed his arms and pouted. “My brother wants to move out. He found a nice flat on Montague Street and nurture the idea that he could move in alone.”

“And you said no”, Anderson finished.

“Yes,” Mycroft said. Anderson breathed deeply and sat down beside his husband.

“Both of you, really…Mycroft, your brother has a right to live alone if he feels ready for it. Your worries are understandable, but you can’t hold him here until he grows old. You have to trust him -“

“-As for you Sherlock, are you certain you want to move out? No more kids, no more meals, no more us? That’s your decision, of course, and it’s normal that you want to take your independence. But please, if you do it and it doesn’t work to your expectation, don’t you dare hesitate to come back here. Clear?” He said.

Sherlock smiled softly and nodded. “I promise,” he said, and then ran his finger on Ingham’s cheek to wipe some carrot puree.

* * *

 

The first time Lestrade witnessed the very unusual relationship between Anderson and his brother-in-law, the latter was methodically listing every failure Anderson had experienced in his life, from the premature ejaculation during his first sexual experience to his father having been sick for far longer than he had said he was.

Lestrade observed with narrowed eyes as Anderson gritted his teeth and took it all, and then, without a glance back Sherlock asked him to go out because he couldn’t think with palpable stupidity touching his skin.

“Are you kidding me Freak?” At first, Lestrade didn’t really know how to react. He needed Sherlock input each time he resorted to call him and he was pretty sure that Anderson knew how to handle Sherlock.

But the more he saw Sherlock insult his brother-in-law shamelessly and snap at him whenever he was in the room the more he doubted the poor man could handle it.

He observed as Anderson left the room and decided to follow him, curious as to what Anderson’s reaction once alone would be. He found him outside, texting away on his phone, his back on the wall of the house.

“You okay?” he asked, and Anderson raised his head and looked surprised.

“What?”

“Sherlock is being a right jerk to you and he is your in-law so I thought…Are you okay?”

Anderson actually smiled at that. “That’s nice of you, thank you, but don’t worry. I have known Sherlock for four and a half years and he has never found any other way to show his affectation than by insulting people,” Lestrade raised one eyebrow.

“You mean he is showing you his affection there?” Anderson let out a puff of air and nodded, smiling. “Yes, he is. Oh sometimes I get angry, you’ve already seen it, but it’s alright, we’re family.”

“He must love you very much,” Lestrade added.

And Anderson eyed him before smiling again. “He does, if you can believe it.”

“Thing is, he insults me and the whole team pretty much every day as well, does that mean he likes us?” He asked.

Anderson burst out in laughter and shook his head. “No, that’s just Sherlock for you,” he answered.

“You have to be family to understand the subtle difference. But I am actually pretty sure he holds you in high regards.”

“What about Sally?” Anderson frowned and grunted. “I don’t like her calling him a Freak, but I do, so…She hates him too much and I don’t like that. But as the saying say, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.”

“You consider Donovan an enemy.” Lestrade frowned and Anderson shrugged.

“I think she could hurt Sherlock by her words, and I am basically Sherlock’s guardian, so yes, she is my enemy. But don’t worry, she will never know it.”

This evening, after having forced Sherlock to go home because it was late and the man hadn’t slept in days – and it had been an epic battle to make him promise to sleep, which had ended with a kiss on the forehead and a “Good night Mummy.” – Anderson finally got to go home and find his little boys and husband.

“You think we should have another one?” Mycroft asked softly as they sat on the floor in the cozy living-room, their naked feet sinking in the thick carpet.

Ingham was standing between Mycroft’s legs, trying to climb on his father’s shoulders, while Isenham was quietly resting against Anderson’s chest, a hand in his mouth, chewing.

“If we do, I want him or her to be yours;” Anderson answered softly.

He ran his hand against his son’s light hair and the little boy raised his head and smiled.

“Anderson...”

“Mycroft, you are an extraordinary person. I love you and I love Sherlock. My brothers, and parents love you as well and you know it. You are not the aberration you both think you are. You are smart boys who had abusive parents, and that’s it. That’s terrible, and sad, but it made you stronger. You are good men, both of you. Please, these two need a little brother or sister, and I want him or her to be yours, I want you to see what it feels like to see their little faces and think, ‘oh god, he’s got Clay’s feet’.”

Mycroft stared at his husband for a while.

After a moment, he nodded. “ Alright, I will do it. We will do it.” Anderson gave him a bright smile and came crawling, Ingham between his arms, toward his husband and second son. He took Mycroft's neck gently in his free hand and kissed him thoroughly.

“I love you.”

“I do too, Anderson. I love you too.” Mycroft said. And the twins chose that moment to get into a fight and started yelling bloody murder – in baby language.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for your kudos and comments! Hope you still enjoy this serie. ^^
> 
> Next part will be named "How Sherlock met John"


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